A River Walk - 2/08/11 - Written by Mike LaDue

Toby's fountain of youth, snow on the River

Toby running to the setting sun near shore

The orange winter globe settles between whispering pines

An Outdoorsman’s view on the River 
Mike Ladue is a Cape Vincent resident who observes and writes about river life.

With each day getting longer I have more time, with additional daylight. I now look out over the large (white) expanse of a sealed River. From here to Carleton and beyond to Wolfe Island, the ice is firm and beckons me do some adventuring. It is a short period of time which I relish, a time when I get to walk upon the water! Don’t get me wrong, I am longing for the end of March and a new season of boating too. To me this unique silent environment represents a renewal of sorts. It provides me with a chance to experience the St. Lawrence as did the first explorers, all alone (aside from my dog).

  Toby, my Britt is a “snow bunny” from the first snowfall to the last. As soon as he sets his paws into a fresh powder he becomes a puppy once again. He will be ten years old this year, a fair shake older then me in dog years. I wish I had his energy and drive to have so much fun! His head perks up with alert ears and his whole body trembles with excitement. He knows that this is the only time of year that he is free to run and does it nonstop. I cannot leave the premises without him by my side, not a chance.

I prefer to take my “River” walks in the late afternoon when I may get to photograph a magnificent winter sunset. There are days when the clouds and snow prevent me from catching a glimpse of the sun. On those days I enjoy the vast horizon, shuffling through the snow and watching cascading flakes, tumble to the ice. The ice will often play a symphony of sounds as it expands; cracking and rearranging. It is a sound that evokes primeval emotions, those of uncertainty as to the soundness of my exploration. I can feel the shiver of the thunder from below as the sound rages towards me, under me and drifts away. Few things that I have encountered are more eerie or delightful!

Toby (the young clown) adds a great deal of entertainment to our walks. He races off to investigate all of the silent dwellings that harbor no human life. Each place is a cause for inspection, not a wall goes unnoticed. Suddenly I will feel a slap to my leg as he zooms past, in an attempt to get me to play with him. He will splay his front legs over the snow and drop his head for an all out charge. All he needs is a solid stare back from me and he comes headlong to bump me, with another pass. We will continue this until he sees something else, more worthwhile to pursue.

When my dog is off playing I get to envelope the surroundings. The Islands never appear as isolated as they do from the ice. Each one stands alone, as if suspended on some frozen planet, a pillar of pines, cedar, and barren oaks awaiting a rebirth. The wind whispers through their outstretched wood, singing the chorus of lonely desolation. At my feet the snow flushes away with each step leaving a brief trail, one that will be gone by morning. By living the experience of the River in winter I can understand the draw to hike the high peaks of the world. What it is like to feel the oneness of man to nature. I become a small insignificant molecule, just a dot on the face of our earth.

 This day, an outing in February, the sun broke from the clouds to settle down to the horizon. An overwhelming sense of place overtook my being as I watched it transform into an orange/red glowing globe. Its light filtered through snowflakes illuminating each, as if they were    each stars in their own right. I felt warm, content and happy to be a part of this rare and magical day.  

 Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder and I have a front seat to the magnificent icy tundra, where life is suspended for a brief time. Many people live to return to the River, during the pleasant months of summer. I live to enjoy the River in each season and each season is just as wondrous as the next.